


Maximum Black

by nitrofire



Category: Dreamcatcher (Korea Band), LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Blade Runner Fusion, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Blade Runner - Freeform, Gen, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitrofire/pseuds/nitrofire
Summary: Jo Haseul, a washed up former blade runner with the Korea National Police Agency is tasked with hunting down Viian, a replicant who holds a secret that the Earth faction of the Terran Federation is determined to keep buried. As she gets deeper into her mission, she questions her own conscience.In the meantime, a third player is also after Viian. The Mars faction, who sends two of their best soldiers to capture Viian alive and expose the secret to the world.One replicant, three hunters. Two different agendas.(Title was taken from the Gunship song of the same name)Totally a Loona/Dreamcatcher Blade Runner AU. A prequel of sorts to The Aerial Racing League
Kudos: 9





	1. 01- Tech Noir

Early in the 21st Century, the Tyrell Corporation advanced robot evolution into the Nexus phase - a being virtually identical to a human - known as a Replicant...

The Nexus-6 line of Replicants were superior in strength and agility, and at least equal in intelligence, to the genetic engineers who created them. Replicants were used Off-world as slave labor, in the hazardous exploration and colonization of other planets.

After a bloody mutiny by a Nexus-6 combat team in an outer colony, Replicants were declared illegal on Earth - under penalty of death.

Special police squads – blade runner units - had orders to shoot to kill, upon detection, any trespassing Replicant.

This was not called execution.

It was called retirement.

After a successive series of violent rebellions, their manufacture became prohibited on Earth and Tyrell corp went bankrupt.

The collapse of Earth ecosystems in the mid 2020s led to the rise of the industrialist Niander Wallace, whose mastery of synthetic farming averted famine on Earth

Wallace acquired the remains of Tyrell corp and created a new line of replicants who are more obedient and subservient, the Nexus-9, production of which, continued in limited amounts into the 2100s

Many older model replicants – Nexus 7s and 8s with open-ended lifespans – survived into the 2100’s. They are still hunted down and 'retired'.

Those that hunt them still go by the name... Blade Runner

-

Old Seoul,

Unified Republic of Korea,

Earth,

2137.

Jo Haseul, one such blade runner, now retired, looks up from the book in her hand as streaks of lightning flash across the sky, punctuated by the rumbling of thunder. Stashing the book back in her bag, she makes a beeline for the nearest restaurant across the street as the rain comes down in a light drizzle

She ends up in an izakaya-type joint. Small, cramped, with only 10 feet of space from the bar and the entrance. The former blade runner chooses a seat neat a window, and after arguing with the chef who insisted on selling her two pieces of sushi instead of the four she insisted on, she settles for a bowl of steaming hot ramen as the drizzle outside turns into a downpour.

Haseul feels a presence behind her. From the reflection on the bar’s gleaming countertop, she easily makes out who it is. Red hair, that megawatt smile. It was her old partner, Detective Kim Jiwoo.

Flashing her National Police badge, Jiwoo mutters a phrase as she turns to Haseul, the words sounding like gibberish to most people, but Haseul identifies it as cityspeak, a mishmash of various languages, most often used by polyglots to talk in code.

“Mademoiselle, azonnal kövessen engem bitte.”

Haseul ignores it, focusing on her meal as the chef starts translating, to her annoyance. She’d left the force for a very good reason and the last thing she wanted to do was to go back.

“Miss Jo… this detective here says you’re under arrest.”

Haseul merely rolls her eyes, scarfing down another mouthful of her noodles before she then dryly responds.

“She’s got the wrong person.”

“你在讲说什么鸟话? 你当然是个银翼杀手!” An exasperated Jiwoo snorts, her words lapsing into Mandarin out of sheer irritation at Haseul’s petulance. Stop bullshitting, you’re a blade runner!

And then Haseul turns to Jiwoo with a raised eyebrow.

“We’re buddies and all but seriously… buzz off, Jiwoo. I’m retired and I’m trying to eat here.”

Jiwoo sighs before leaning closer. “Captain Park wants to see you, Haseul. Now as your partner, I’m gonna have to ask nicely for you to come with me. Please don’t make me use force on you.”

The former blade runner merely scoffs in annoyance, wordlessly complying with Jiwoo’s orders as she gets up.

-

_Name: Haseul, Jo_

_Rank: Inspector_

_Type: Human_

_Service: Korean National Police Agency (ret.)_

_Unit: Seoul Branch, KNPA Blade Runner Unit (ret.)_

_Assigned station: Seoul Gangnam Police Station (ret.)_

The ride to the Seoul branch of the Earth Federal Police takes longer than Haseul is used to. Maybe it’s because she hasn’t ridden a spinner in ages or maybe it’s because of Jiwoo’s driving, preferring to cruise as if they were on a roadtrip instead of flooring the gas, like Haseul preferred to do. 

Haseul mentally curses herself for forgetting to bring her music player and earphones. Even with Jiwoo’s attempts at striking up a conversation, it’s hard for Haseul to not let her mind wander. To three months prior, before she retired from being a blade runner. For Haseul, what eats at her is why she retired.

Being a blade runner takes its toll on people.

For years after her first assignment, Haseul’s first ‘retirement’ of a replicant still haunts her. The older Nexus-3 models would willingly surrender when cornered, but blade runners had standing orders to ‘retire’ (a euphemism for killing) replicants, regardless of whether they gave themselves up willingly or not.

The image of the unfortunate Nexus-3’s expression before she planted a bullet in its face stays with her for a long time. Eternally burned in her memory is how its expression was a mix of fear, wordlessly imploring her to have mercy on it, and acceptance, at its inevitable fate.

Killing a replicant never gets easier for Haseul. Ironic as she was one of the best blade runners in her part of Earth.

And as Jiwoo’s spinner got closer and closer to headquarters, the image of that replicant’s final moments flashes over and over in Haseul’s mind.

“So which skinjob broke out of storage again?” Haseul finally regains the composure to speak, right after Jiwoo parked the spinner and led her down the hallway that would lead to Captain Park’s office.

“Not an escaped one. Supposedly this one is carrying some extremely sensitive information that needs to be…suppressed. I don’t know all the details but Captain Park will fill you in.”

-

‘Park Seonghwa’, as the name on the office door read. Captain rank. Commander of the Seoul branch of the Korean National Police Agency’s blade runner unit.

Seonghwa’s already waiting at his desk as Haseul steps in. Jiwoo remains silent, standing guard and locking the door as Seonghwa reaches under his desk, pulling out two shot glasses and a bottle of amber colored liquid.

“Captain Park.”

“Ah Haseul.”

Seonghwa pauses, breaking into a slight grin, noting the way Haseul clenches her fist as she plasters on a grim rictus of a smile.

“Sorry about that but I knew you wouldn’t have come over if I had just asked. Now come on, officer Jo, take a seat. Please don’t be so grouchy.”

Haseul complies, dropping into the chair with a scoff before taking one of the shot glasses and downing the liquid in it- immediately wishing she hadn’t as it burned her throat, almost inducing a coughing fit in the former blade runner.

“Okay what is it. Jiwoo says you want me to hunt down a replicant? Something about it carrying sensitive info.”

Seonghwa chuckles, before leaning closer, pouring another shot.

“This is an order from Public Security Section 31. Also there’s actually two, not one. Going back on topic, I suppose you’re familiar with Laplace’s Box?”

Haseul nods. Laplace’s Box was a literal relic which was of great importance to the Terran Federation. The exact contents of it were known to only a select few people and from what Haseul knows, had the potential to destablize the Federation itself.

The various resistance movements on Earth, along with the Mars and Outer Colonies factions of the Federation would kill to get their hands on the aforementioned box.

Haseul herself didn’t know what exactly was in it and neither did she want to know, deciding she’d be better off not knowing at all.

Seonghwa then down his own drink before continuing.

“This particular skinjob somehow managed to get their hands on the box itself. Section 31 is still working out who gave to them, how they got it and why. We suspect a link between them and one replicant resistance movement based in East Asia as three of them stormed the Pyongyang branch to bail out our friend.”

“A bit embarassing isn’t it?”

Seonghwa laughs before pouring both himself and Haseul yet another shot.

“Nope. Not embarrassing, cause no one’s ever gonna find out about these skinjobs. You find them, retire them with extreme prejudice.”

Haseul then downs her drink while shaking her head.

“Forgotten I don’t work for you anymore? Also forgotten I failed the baseline test thrice before I quit? Besides, this is Section 31’s problem so why the KNPA? Why me specifically? Give it to Agent Ryu. She’s their best.”

“They did. Sent agents Pyo Hyemi and Ryu Sera after ‘er. Both of them got plugged by the other three skinjobs that bailed our friend out. One got tagged while our friend and the surviving two escaped. I need you, Haseul. The entire KNPA needs you. It’s bad one… The worst one yet. I need the old master blade runner back. We need your magic”

Haseul merely replies with a cold, hard stare before she gets up.

“Sorry Cap, I quit the last time I came in here and I’m quitting again now.”

“Stop right where you are!” Seonghwa’s expression hardens as Jiwoo after a millisecond of heasitation, restrains Haseul by the coat tails of her jacket.

“You know the score, buddy. You blade runners aren’t cops like us. You’re all little people.”

Haseul turns around, rolling her eyes.

“No choice eh?”

To which Jiwoo shakes her head and then Seonghwa chuckles, his expression softening.

“No choice, miss Jo.”

-

Terran Federation Mars faction.

Martian Special Operations Force,

501st Special Operations Battalion,

Camp Cydonia.

Mars.

In the wake of the fall of the Tyrell Corporation, the Mars faction of the Terran Federation managed to sieze some of the Tyrell Corporation’s assets before its acquisition by Niander Wallace, among them, several of the Tyrell corp’s replicant manufacturing equipment and facilities.

Seeing the potential use for replicants as soldiers instead of slaves, the Mars Defence Forces pursued further development of replicants.

Where the Nexus-8 and 9 series were engineered to be even more subservient to their masters, the MDF, specifically the Mars Aerospace Force and Special Operations Force, came up with the Nexus 10 and 11 series of replicants, which solved most of the original issues associated with the previous Nexus series.

Unlike the previous Nexus lines, the Nexus 10s and 11s were meant to be essentially a replacement body for selected military personnel that either died or were crippled in combat or various accidents, colloquially referred to as ‘sleeves’ by Mars Defense Force troops.

Humans for ethical reasons, would not be allowed to ‘upgrade’ to a replicant sleeve unless dead or critically injured, but replicant troops could, upon request, or by being selected by commanders, be eligible for a voluntary upgrade from their old Nexus 8 or 9 bodies into a Nexus 10 or 11 sleeve.

Selected soldiers and pilots would have an implant in the base of the neck called a cortical stack or just ‘stack’ for short, which would ‘record’ and ‘save’ one’s personality, memories and consciousness into the stack. In the event of the pilot or soldier’s death, the stack could be extracted and inserted into the new body which for obvious reasons, would be made to look exactly like the deceased.

The biggest issues with the Nexus replicants were empathetic ability and obedience/subservience, which the Martian Defence Forces easily solved. The level of empathy and subservience of a Nexus 10 or 11 would depend on the personality of the original soldier or pilot before the stack transfer. All issues with psychopathy, sociopathy and subservience to authority would have been dealt with during the original persona’s time in basic training and various psych tests.

Mars had taken a more egalitarian view towards replicants, which often put them at odds with the Earth faction of the Federation. Most Nexus 7, 8 and 9 replicants that managed to evade the blade runners on Earth and escape to Mars were welcomed into the military, where they were treated like any other human personnel, with most even going as far as to having the cortical stack implant installed.

-

_Name: Bora, Kim_

_Rank: Sergeant First Class_

_Type: Nexus-8_

_Service: Mars Special Operations Force_

_Unit: 501st Special Operations Battalion_

_Assigned base: Camp Cydonia_

A group of medical staff in bright white surgical scrubs watch as the fluid is slowly drained from the glass tank in front of them. As the tank unseals itself, two members of the team reach in, pulling the female replicant inside out after disconnecting her oxygen mask.

The seemingly lifeless replicant is then placed on to a gurney and wheeled off into an operating room where another body, an exact lookalike of the replicant lies on one out of two operating tables.

Sergeant First Class Kim Bora. A Nexus 8 replicant. Formerly a refugee from Seoul who managed to escape the blade runners on Earth more than a decade ago on a cargo ship headed to the red planet, she was found by a group of Mars Aerospace Force pilots and pararescuemen on an exercise before being taken in. Working her way up the ranks, Bora was then selected out of a batch of 200 candidates for the Mars Special Operations Force where she had the fortune to be assigned to the 501st, who worked quite closely with the Mars Aerospace Force.

She wasn’t told why or how, but with her recent promotion to Master Sergeant, it was decided by her commanders that it was time for her to receive some upgrades, in the form of a new body, which happened to be one of the new Nexus 11 sleeves. Knowing how the 501st operated, usually a command-assigned sleeve upgrade for a replicant trooper usually meant that the higher-ups had some big mission planned.

Bora accepted it, without any argument or questions. Being stuck on Mars was beginning to bore her and the thought of a mission that involved her being sent off-world drove her to readily accept the promotion and ‘sleeve upgrade’.

The transfer procedure was extremely simple, to the point where some would consider it almost laughable at how easy it was. It involved putting Bora into a deep sleep through an injection that would cause her Nexus 8 body to slowly shut down. And as her new body was retrieved, the medical team had started to work on her old one.

An incision was made in the back of the base of Bora’s neck, with the stack being easily removed and then a similar procedure on the back of her new body’s neck, with a pair of doctors along with her squadmate, a woman with hair that went past her shoulders, dyed a rather garish shade of blue, who went by the full name Lee Yoobin, eyeing a monitor that was showing them the vital signs of the Nexus 11 sleeve.

The stack is inserted, the incision sealed. The flat lines on the monitor start to spike as Bora slowly stirs to consciousness, as the stack connects with the rest of the body, acting as an ‘on-switch’ of sorts. Bora awakens with a gasp, blinking as the flat lines on the screen start to spike, the patterns growing less erratic after a minute as the newly-awakened replicant slows her breathing in an attempt to calm down.

The doctors disconnect her from the monitor. Yoobin and the lead doctor nod in some sort of agreement as another doctor helps Bora to her feet, Yoobin then stepping over to offer a handshake.

“Congratulations on your promotion along with your upgrade, Sarge. How do you like your new body so far?” 

“I’ll be honest. I don’t really feel any different.”

“You’ll be able to feel the difference on this assignment. Minji says the Nexus 11 sleeve is supposed to be much more resilient to damage than the Nexus 10.”

Yoobin then hands over a back to Bora, containing Bora’s uniform and tactical gear.

“Get dressed, buddy. Then get back up to Medical. They want you, me and Siyeon up there.”

-

Bora soon finds out why she’s needed in Medical. Herself and Yoobin were then taken into two examination rooms, each with a Voight-Kampff machine on a table. _Oh boy. Here we go._

Bora was pretty familiar with the Voight-Kampff tests. To determine if the interrogated subject was a replicant, the blade runner or officer administering the test would ask a series of pre-written questions that were designed to provoke an emotional and involuntary physical response, which was monitored by the Voight-Kampff machine that happens to look like a portable version of the device opticians use to examine eyes. The test took into account response time, the choice of words and phrasing in the answer, along with bodily functions such as respiration, heart rate, blushing and eye movement.

However, on Mars, the Voight-Kampff tests were administered to replicants for a different reason. Mars Special Operations Force units had expected their replicant members to be forced to take the test during missions on Earth and the outer colonies, therefore the VK tests were administered as part of a psychological training regimen (developed with the supervision of rogue blade runners that had defected to the Mars faction of the Federation) that would allow MARSOF troops to easily pass the test and slip past detection.

“Welcome, Master Sergeant.” Bora sits down in front of the desk, ensuring her left eye is aligned with the machine’s viewfinder.

“Let’s get this over with.” 

To which the person, a random 501st trooper who used to be a blade runner, behind the machine nods.

“Alright, I guess you already know that bs about reaction time being a factor and all that jazz. Let’s begin.”

-

“It’s your birthday, someone gives you a calfskin wallet.”

“If it was synthetic, I’d accept it. If it was real, I’d definitely not.”

The trooper nods in approval.

Bora remains stoic, attempting to hold back her growing impatience as the questions continue.

“You’re watching television. Suddenly you realize there’s a wasp crawling on your arm. How do you react…?”

“I’d swat it away…”

And it goes on, for over an hour.

“Okay… Final question. You’re in a desert walking along in the sand when all of the sudden you look down, and you see a tortoise, it’s crawling toward you. You reach down, you flip the tortoise over on its back. The tortoise lays on its back, its belly baking in the hot sun, beating its legs trying to turn itself over, but it can’t, not without your help. But you’re not helping. Why is that?”

“Childish curiosity. I want to see it try to turn itself over. Since it can’t, I’d flip it right side up and then find the nearest watering hole or oasis to release it at.”

And then Bora exhales slowly, the trooper from behind the machine raising a thumbs up. She’d definitely passed the test.

-

“So how’d you do?” Yoobin enquired as Bora breaks into a smug grin.

“500.”

“Impressive.” Bora’s own record stood at 497 questions, before the tester could determine she was a replicant. One dropship pilot, a Chief Warrant Officer Lee Siyeon who was an acquaintance of Bora’s, held the record at 550 questions.

By coincidence, Siyeon would be their pilot for the coming mission. She was the first to stand to attention when the two operators entered the hangar, making their way to a table where their unit commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Kim Minji, also a friend of Siyeon’s and Yoobin’s, awaited.

“Master Sgt. Kim. SFC. Lee, good to see you both. Now let’s get this started.”

There were three other people beside them. Siyeon’s co-pilot and two crewmen for Siyeon’s dropship. Minji presses a few buttons on the holo-projector in the centre of the table. Immediately, a holographic projection of Earth appears before the image zooms in on a country, the Unified Republic of Korea. And then the image zooms in even more on the capital of Seoul, before a somewhat blurred picture of a girl with dark hair and doe-eyed features appears next to the map of the city.

“We have just received word from a mole in Earth’s Public Security Section 31. This lady here, is a Nexus-8 replicant. Working a side job as a courier. Name is Viian Wong. Inception date was in 2130. Our little replicant friend here somehow came into possession of Laplace’s Box. Not a copy, ladies and gents. This is THE actual Laplace’s Box itself.”

The silence that followed was broken by a series of whispers. Laplace’s box was supposed to be heavily guarded on the titular space colony that was on Earth’s moon. The fact that it had gotten into the hands of seemingly random person had sent shockwaves through the Federation’s intelligence divisions.

As if she knew what her troops were thinking, Minji nods before continuing.

“How it got into the hands of this Person of Interest is the job of our mole in Section 31 and the spooks in Section 9 to find out. Our job now is to perform a snatch and grab operation on her and bring her back to Mars. The police forces on Earth are sure to be aware of her and every blade runner in the UROK will be after her. While we do know she's still in Seoul, we do not have a confirmed fix on her exact location so you’ll have to seek her out yourselves. The box is the main objective. Extracting Miss Wong is more for humanitarian reasons. If somehow Miss Wong dies or is captured, just focus on getting the box off Earth.”

The image then changes back into the map, with a red cross marked on the mountains that used to be the former demilitarized zone for that era when the Unified Republic of Korea was still divided into two along with a red circle on a patch of green in the centre of the city.

“You will perform a HALO drop from one of our new stealth dropships and make your way into the city and then search for Viian. Once you have located and secured Miss Wong, you will take her to the former DMZ, which is 60 kilometers from the capital. There, CWO Lee, callsign Warwolf will pick you up. Try not to blow your cover until Warwolf comes for you. If anything happens, only you can unfuck yourselves. If you get captured or killed, we cannot acknowledge that you were working for MARSOF..”

Turning her attention to the two 501st operators and the dropship crew, Minji switches off the projector.

“Normally we’d send one person for the sake of maintaining a minimal presence but with how risky and critical this operation is, Master Sergeant Kim will join SFC Lee on this mission due to her familiarity with the city. I will reiterate this; If shit happens and our PoI dies, just bring the box back. This operation will be codenamed Snatcher and commences now. Time is of the essence. I will be monitoring your progress from here.”

And in response, the two operators and the dropship crew salutes, before turning and marching towards their ship, a sleeker, more angular-looking version of the dragonfly-esque dropships used by the Mars Aerospace Force. This one had the phrase ‘Fortunate Son’ painted right under the cockpit, as a reference to one of the crewmembers’ favourite songs.

And as they board the craft, Minji throws them a salute, which Bora turns to return before the hatches close and the dropship lifts off.


	2. 02- Cyber City

The flight from Mars to Earth only took a few hours, with the dropship in the shuttlebay of an MASF starship. Travelling faster than the speed of light, the ship quickly drops out of warp, the sudden slowdown jolting the two operators in the dropship’s hold awake.

The starship stops, just outside of the maximum range of the scanners on the Earth’s orbital defence network. As the dropship’s engines start, Siyeon and her co-pilot run through the checklists. Switches are flipped, displays flicker to life as Siyeon rattles off everything on the checklist in front of her, her co-pilot affirming each enquiry.

The shuttlebay’s doors open as the dropship takes off. As soon as the dropship is clear, Siyeon applies full power to the thrusters, hurtling clear of the mothership. Within moments, a few button presses activate the dropship’s optical camouflage, its dragonfly-like form now a barely visible silhouette against the black backdrop of outer space.

Bora and Yoobin both check their gear. For the mission, they would be travelling light. A duffel bag with civillian clothes, backpacks, and only their sidearms for self defence along with a knife each.

“Entering the atmosphere in two minutes. Our current course places us over Shanghai, mainland China. Atmospheric entry will commence over the Yellow Sea. Local time is... 11:47 pm.”

“And it’ll be a short five-minute flight until we reach Namsan in Seoul” Siyeon nods at her co-pilot’s observations.

The lights of the cities below twinkle like the stars surrounding the ship, a sharp contrast to the dark void that was the Yellow Sea, which lay between the city the ship flew over and the drop zone.

“Depressurizing the cargo compartment in 10 minutes. Switching to What’s the weather like over Seoul?” Siyeon inquires as she remains focused on her piloting.

“Overcast. But no clouds below 10,000 feet. We’re looking CAVOK. Smog levels over the drop zone are within safe limits.”

“Brilliant. We’ve only got one chance on this, and we’re on the money.”

Siyeon mutters back her acknowledgement, heaving a barely audible sigh. Pollution levels in Earth’s atmosphere were off the charts compared to the relatively clear skies over Mars, and the last thing she wanted to do was to accidentally drop Bora and Yoobin into a literal cloud of acidic smog, but the fact that the clouds over the drop zone were considerable harmless gave Siyeon a form of relief

In the cargo hold, Bora and Yoobin check their equipment yet again. Yoobin running a checklist on their gear while Bora examines and cleans her weapons, her knife that went into a sheath strapped to her thigh while her handgun is placed in a holster on her left hip.

Both Yoobin and Bora then slip on their helmets, similar to the ones used by fighter pilots, strapping on their attached masks before running through the checks on their oxygen supply.

Siyeon’s voice crackles through the intercom a minute later, informing the two operators that they were about three minutes away from drop off.

And then the lights next to Bora’s head switch from green to yellow, indicating that the cargo hold was fully depressurized.

Two minutes till the jump. The black of the sea below gives way into the lights of Incheon, and then the lights of the highways leading into the Seoul metropolis.

The dropship’s cargo doors open, both Bora and Yoobin standing right at the edges. They would make the jump at 30,000 feet, falling at a speed of 200+ kilometers an hour. Bora takes comfort in the fact that her suit would protect her from the freezing, polluted air outside.

Seconds remain until the jump. Bora and Yoobin shoot each other a look, both of them silently counting down the seconds until Siyeon gives them the go.

From the open doors, the lights of Seoul loom up at them from below. The only difference between cities on Mars and Earth from the skywas the lack of Martian dust adding a reddish haze to the garish clusters of neon lights, while on Earth, somehow everything seemed to be under a drab tint, due to the smog.

A dark void in the city lights comes into view. Namsan Peak, their drop zone.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Yoobin lets herself fall forwards, while Bora turns, performing a backwards swan dive, the dropship’s cargo doors immediately closing after.

-

Falling. Falling and more falling.

The devices on Bora and Yoobin’s wrists flash as the numbers, indicating their current altitude drop rapidly. Yoobin closes her eyes, while Bora keeps her focus on the numbers on her wrist device.

The drop from 30,000 feet feels like an eternity as the numbers keep ticking down and the world disappears in dark grey

20,000 feet.

15,000

10,000

5000.

Bora and Yoobin’s hands reach for their ripcords. 4000 feet now. Yoobin’s lost count of the minutes that had passed the moment they leaped out of the dropship.

The minutes seem to slow even more in the freefall. And then Bora’s eyes catch sight of the altimeter hitting the 2500 feet mark.

With a nod, both Bora and Yoobin yank hard on the ripcords, the parachutes rapidly unfurling from containment, the sudden drop in freefall speed making Bora feel as if someone grabbed her by the back of her suit and yanked hard.

Both Bora and Yoobin slowly drifted down to earth, their forms barely silhouetted against the backdrop of neon dotted buildings, their landing zone just a hundred yards from the tower at the peak of Namsan.

Despite the omnipresent haze of smog, both Bora and Yoobin note during the descent at how the cityscape of Seoul somehow seems cleaner than the cities on Mars, where literally everything would be caked in a thin layer of red dust.

-

A blimp passes overhead, slowly drifting between the buildings as its loudspeakers loop an audio advertisement encouraging people to move to the Outer Colonies.

An irritated Haseul merely stares outside the spinner’s windshield. Intending to drown out the sounds of the blimp, she turns up the volume of the song playing through her earphones, a synthwave track from a well-curated playlist. Whatever the title was, she didn’t remember, neither did she bother to check.

Haseul closes her eyes as her mind begins to wander again, cursing herself for forgetting to take her medication that would ‘clear’ the storm of thoughts in her head. Images of that unfortunate replicant from her last mission flash across her mind’s eye, interspersed with an image of Haseul herself with the barrel of a gun just an inch away from her face.

It takes Jiwoo yanking out the earphone from Haseul’s left ear to break Haseul out of it.

“You’ve been more quiet than usual. You alright?”

“When have I ever been alright, Jiwoo?”

Haseul snaps, her words coming out as a sigh instead.

“Forgot your meds?”

“Yeah but that’s not the point. The point is why me? Why couldn’t it have been any other Blade Runner? I’m not fit to be back on duty damn it. I failed both the psych and baseline tests. Twice. Twice! And please don’t give me that ‘you’re the KNPA’s best blade runner’ crap.”

Jiwoo remains silent for a minute as she weaves in between cars, unwilling to interrupt Haseul’s mini rant, then draws in a breath before speaking.

“Believe me I did try. I did try to talk them out of it. But we both know that what the brass wants, the brass gets. I’m sorry, ‘Seul. But they really wouldn’t listen to me.”

Haseul mrely nods in acknowledgement, before turning back to gaze on the cityscape. There was no point trying to argue as Jiwoo was indeed right.

Haseul remembers a conversation she had with an assassin she had shared a couple drinks with, in another slum after a much earlier assignment before that fateful one. Jung…something. The name escaped her, but Haseul vividly remembers that assassin, a lady with blonde locks, telling her after a dozen shots, that once one went into the underworld, be it on the side of the replicant resistance or the criminal underworld in general, there was no leaving.

Being a blade runner is the same as being a hitman, the only difference being that both were on opposite sides of the law. And just like a hitman, a blade runner can never really leave, as Haseul now found out.

“Okay so where to?” Not wanting to make the mood even bluer than it is now, Haseul decides to change the subject, knowing the futility of arguing about why the higher ups had insisted on dragging her back into active service.

“Itaewon. That replicant we’re after, Viian Wong and her buddies, they were last spotted at a hotel there. The Yukon, according to the person that gave the tip.”

Haseul groans. A shadow of its 21st century self, Itaewon, a known red-light district, now turned into one of the many slums that dotted the Seoul megalopolis. Beat cops often travelled there in squads of three instead of the usual one or two-man teams, because in many cases, unfortunate officers and blade runners often met their ends at the hands of the many thugs that prowled Itaewon’s shadows.

Back in the day, Haseul would have refused to go in without demanding a SWAT unit as backup. But now, a burned-out Haseul was too tired and too angry to even pick up the hotline to Seoul PD headquarters. 

Haseul then glances over at Jiwoo, feeling the spinner slow to a halt as Jiwoo pulls over. Reaching into the glove compartment, Jiwoo then reaches for a submachine gun, officially designated the PDR, and then hands it to Haseul.

There were two of said submachine guns and Jiwoo takes the other one for herself, slinging it across her front while Haseul does the same.

“We’re going to be needing these if we’re going into that shithole.”

“Amen to that.” Haseul nods, wracking back the bolt of her PDR, releasing it with an audible click. Their extra firepower now giving Haseul some sense of confidence.

Jiwoo chuckles, side-eyeing Haseul as the spinner starts moving again.

“Looks like we’ve got the old blade runner back.”

“For now. Let’s get going.”

-

Bora likes it when a plan comes together. Herself and Yoobin both landed in a clearing in the forest that blanketed the entire Namsan hill, somehow without getting caught in a tree. Yoobin had already started doing the parachute straps while Bora, in a fit of impatience, slices off her own straps with a knife.

Yoobin is the first to change into her civillian clothes, behind a tree, while Bora follows suit after. Both Yoobin and Bora stuff their suits and parachutes into their backpacks, intending to dispose of them as soon as they find a dumpster. Yoobin’s outfit consists of an olive drab trenchcoat over her clothes while Bora’s is a black anorak, both with bulletproof material sewn into the lining.

“So, once we ditch these, what’s the plan?” Bora asks, racking back the slide of her handgun, an FN Five Seven that was standard issue for MARSOF operators, checking for a bullet in its chamber before releasing it, Yoobin also doing the same with her own handgun as she shrugs after.

“Find the nearest fringe slum or red light district and start asking questions. If you want a bigger boomstick than our Five Sevens, we’re gonna have to find a way to procure weapons.”

To which Bora nods while she brings up a holographic map of the area. The nearest district that fit Yoobin’s criteria was a place called Itaewon, a red light district that was slowly turning into a slum.

“Nearest is Itaewon, directly south of the LZ. Where there’s shady business, there’s bound to be guns and lots of people who’ll sing like canaries if poked correctly. Rogue skinjobs like Viian are known to operate in places like that. No sane blade runner would go in without a lot of backup. I should know. That’s how I kept myself hidden before I managed to flee to Mars.”

Yoobin chuckles as she stands up, dropping her handgun back into its holster.

“Well there’s our plan. Let’s ditch the chutes and suits first then get going.”

“Got it. Let’s rock.”

-

Haseul draws in a breath as soon as she steps out of the spinner and immediately regrets it. The air is filled with a variety of smells; dried piss, festering garbage, the stench of heated grease with an acrid undertone, confirming to the blade runner that the stench is that of some cheapskate eatery owner using gutter oil that was burned and long dead, in a fryer somewhere.

Haseul slips on a facemask, one of the cheap $1 surgical masks one can find in literally any convenience store. The mask was intended to conceal her features, as the aforementioned surgical masks, which were standard issue, were utterly useless at keeping out anything but the biological contents of someone’s sneeze or cough. Jiwoo doesn’t bother with a mask, instead wrapping a bandana around her mouth.

The ubiquitous neon signs dot the strip they stopped at, bathing the night sky in a haze of purples, reds and varying shades of blue and teal. The environment reminds Haseul of someone’s LSD trip brought to life.

“According to the directions, the hotel we’re looking for is just at the end of the street.”

Haseul glances ahead as Jiwoo points out the direction of the target building, catching sight of several strangers shooting looks their way.

It doesn’t take the aforementioned strangers to wordlessly give way to Haseul and Jiwoo, recognizing Haseul herself through sheer presence alone. Despite the masks, it didn’t take that long for them to realize that one of the National Police Agency’s best blade runners is back in action, the sight of the PDR slung across Haseul’s front ensuring that Itaewon’s denizens keep their distance from herself and Jiwoo.

Ignoring the stares and scowls from the people around them, Haseul and Jiwoo casually stroll through the doors of the Yukon hotel, a rather seedy-looking establishment, with their hands over their handguns.

The only person they meet is a half-asleep receptionist, who offers no resistance, not even a demand for a warrant, even after Haseul flashes her badge, instead mumbling the room number of Haseul and Jiwoo’s person-of-interest along with the floor that the aforementioned room is located on.

-

The first thing to greet Haseul and Jiwoo as Haseul opens the door with a spare key from the receptionist is the smell. That familiar musty smell of damp fabric and wallpaper. Haseul draws her PDR, while Jiwoo proceeds to rummage through the closet.

The room was a mess, as if the occupant had left in a hurry, the pillows, blankets and even the comforter haphazardly tossed aside. One hand on the grip of her submachine gun, Haseul proceeds to rifle through the drawers one-handed, eventually coming up with several photographs.

Most of the photos are of the other two replicants that the brass wanted eliminated, with their names scribbled under their faces by amazing coincidence. The first one was a male. Typical flower boy appearance that judging from the dossier Haseul had on him, hid a ton of physical strength and combat skill. ‘Choi San’, as his name reads out. Led the attack on the Pyongyang HQ of the KNPA to break out Viian Wong. For a damn box, Haseul thinks to herself.

The second, a female. As youthful as Jiwoo herself, and with doll-like features. Despite her childlike appearance, Chaewon, as the name under her face stated, had a long rap sheet with the KNPA, most of which Haseul skimmed through during the ride from Seoul HQ to Itaewon.

The next photos are selfies of Viian. Taken with a polaroid camera. Haseul’s gaze lingers just a bit longer over Viian’s face, her attention drawn to Viian’s eyes. Eyes that brought back a flash of Haseul’s last assignment before this.

 _She’s pretty cute, I’m not gonna lie._ Haseul chuckles to herself, her expression quickly shifting after. She was starting to feel pretty icky about having to put a bullet into the owner of the polaroids, with the flashes of that unfortunate Nexus-3 replicant from her previous assignment doing little to help her.

“Found anything?” Jiwoo yells, breaking Haseul’s train of thoughts. Finding nothing in the bathroom or the closet, Jiwoo opted to stand guard at the door, her PDR at the ready.

“Not yet! I-uhh, I just need a couple more minutes.”

Haseul returns to the task at hand, sifting through the rest of the photos. The final one is extremely familiar.

The person in the photo, was someone Haseul did know. That blonde assassin she shared a couple drinks with by chance while she was off-duty, many moons ago. Said assassin’s hair was now a more hazelnut color, but Haseul somehow remembers that face. The name escapes her, but the nickname doesn’t. The synthetic feather taped to the back of the photo confirms Haseul’s suspicions.

The Red Owl.

“Hey Jiwoo! I got something!”

And Jiwoo comes running over, as Haseul holds up the photo of the Red Owl.

“Buddy, I think we now have a lead.”

“Kim Jungeun, aka the Red Owl. Doesn’t surprise me that she’d be in contact with Viian or the resistance, given what she does for a living.”  
  
“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“What? Find her, have a chitchat over drinks or something?” Jiwoo asks, the incredulity in her tone increasing with each word.

“Precisely what I was thinking.” Haseul chuckles with a shrug after.

“Works for me. As long as it gives us a way to get to Viian and her two replicant pals.”


	3. 03- Nocturnal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild TW for this chapter. Proceed with caution. Content should be self explanatory, but one scene in this chapter was based off of a personal experience I've had.

“You got the box?” Jungeun leans forward, her gaze fixed on the doelike brunette in front of her, who then proceeds to slide the aforementioned box over. Jungeun opens it, reaching in for its contents with one hand, as her other hand is occupied with a lit cigarette, the owl tattoo on the back of said hand catching Viian’s eye.

Viian raises an eyebrow as Jungeun holds up the box’s contents, a clear optical chip with several metallic green lines running over its surface. Viian resists the urge to roll her eyes. All that hushed talk, all that security surrounding the person that assigned her to deliver the box to some random person that assigned Jungeun to be the go-between.

All that running, from the police, along with the fact that the intended recipient insisted on sending an underling to verify that all that trouble Viian herself was in, was for a damned chip, added to Viian’s increasing weariness and frustration. Jungeun could have just shot her there and taken the box, but then the powers that be (i.e the people Jungeun worked for), required that Jungeun exercise a certain level of restraint.

“I know that look. You’ve been made to run for your life and jump through hoops just cause of a stupid box and a chip. I can tell you that it’s the shit that’s in this chip that makes people willing to kill for it. They never told you what’s in Laplace’s Box am I right?”

Viian’s only response is to lean back in her seat, with a silent nod.

“I knew it.” Jungeun laughs, taking a long drag before turning her head to one side, letting out a smoke ring while a bemused Viian watches.

“I’m not allowed to go into detail, because you never know who’s listening in, but I can tell you this is related to Feddie politics. You probably know that the Feddies are dominated by the Earth faction. What’s on this chip threatens that dominance, which is why the Earth Feddies want it to stay buried. And now that you have Laplace’s box, they’re going to send every blade runner from here to Singapore and Tokyo to kill you, me, and the people I work for, just to make sure it stays buried. After all this shit is over, regardless of what the people I work for do with the box, I’m gonna buzz off to Mars where the blade runners can’t touch me. I suggest you yourself do the same.”

“No choice huh?” Viian sighs, resigning herself to the fact that she’ll be on the run starting from now.

“Nope.” Jungeun shakes her head sadly, tossing the cigarette into an ashtray. “Speaking of which, you best get going. They already gave you the location right?”

To which Viian responds to with a nod as she downs the drink in front of her in one shot.

“Good. You gotta go now, a little birdie told me that Seoul PD’s brought one of tbeir best blade runners out of retirement just for you. You did manage to get your photos before you bailed from the hotel?”

Viian straightens in her seat, standing up, quickly turning to leave but then pauses to look over her shoulder at Jungeun. 

“No… But what about you? What will you do?”

“Thought so. I’m just the messenger, sent to check in on you. I can hold my own against any blade runner but it’s you they want now. They’re gonna use me to get to you. I’ll stall them, feed ‘em some bullshit then I’ll send them in the other direction so you’ll have a head start. Forget about the photos and go now before they find you and we both get clipped. I never saw you, you never saw me, we never had this convo, got it?”

Viian remains silent, nodding as she then takes off into the night. Jungeun watches Viian’s fleeting form disappearing into the neon haze outside, shaking her head as she lights up another cigarette, catching sight of two more figures entering her line of sight a couple minutes later.

Both masked, one with auburn locks that went past her shoulders and the other with a bob cut, who Jungeun immedately recognized from her eyes. A smirk forms at the corner of Jungeun’s lips as the figure with the bob cut pulls down her mask before flashing her badge at Jungeun.

“Kim Jungeun, AKA the Red Owl.”

“Jo Haseul. One of Korea’s top blade runners. Been a long time.” Jungeun reaches for her handgun, biting back a giggle at the sight of Haseul and Haseul’s partner reaching for their own weapons before she places her own weapon on the table, sliding it forward for a show of good faith.

“I’m here on business. You’re an associate of Viian Wong?”

“What? No ‘we’d like to ask you a few questions’ first? None of that shoot-first-ask-later silliness?”

“We may be on good terms here, but I’m not exactly in the best of moods right now and I’d appreciate it if you’d answer my question before I snap and plug you right here.”

Jungeun catches Haseul’s eye twitching, then decides to stop pressing the blade runner’s buttons further, her eyes catching sight of Haseul’s hands along with the rest of Haseul herself are starting to tremble. Haseul’s seemingly limp, unfocused gaze is a dead giveaway that something is up with the blade runner herself.

Jungeun’s seen it before with a few hitmen she’d worked alongside. Mostly among former blade runners or veteran soldiers of the war on Faery, and even those who found the weight of taking another life to be too much to bear after a certain amount of time on the job. Jungeun herself knows. One of the main reasons she wants to leave this life behind and flee to Mars is herself starting to slip into the beginning stages. But unlike the blade runner, the assassin is much better at hiding it.

“Okay, okay. I’ve pressed enough of your buttons. But yes, I know her. Obviously I can’t tell you how or why but since it’s her you want and not me… well you just missed her. She left 5 minutes ago… Headed for Haebangchon.”

“I can take your word for it?”

“What do you think?” A pause. “I hear you’re looking for the other two replicants that bailed her out of Pyongyang too.” Jungeun adds, her lips curling up in a catlike grin as she watches Haseul’s expressions, resisting the urge to chuckle at the sight of Haseul hesitating as the blade runner considers her options.

“If you and your buddy over there got five minutes to spare, join me for a few shots and I’ll tell you what I can. Walls have ears too and since I know you know who I work for, I can’t tell you everything.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Haseul scoffs, accepting Jungeun’s offer, to which Jungeun acknowledges with a grin, sliding over a mini disc.  
  


“Now where shall I start… Ah yes. I’ve been keeping an eye on Chaewon and San. Every observation I’ve made on those two and their associates is in this disc. Okay it’s a copy, but it’s a carbon copy. Once you and that buddy of yours leave, remember, you never saw me. I never saw you. Our superiors wouldn’t like it if they got wind of a hitman and two cops collaborating with each other now would they?”

To which Haseul raises an eyebrow.

“Touche. We have a deal.”

-

Bora squeezes through the crowd, with Yoobin three feet behind her. Both have their hands on their weapons, minimizing eye contact with Itaewon’s denizens. Despite their clothes matching the fashion, somehow the both of them still managed to attract some stares. The packs with their suits and parachutes were disposed of in a dumpster behind some abandoned shophouses.

Bora’s first impression of the city she left behind a decade ago was that it didn’t change much in the decade after she fled Earth, except for the fact that the ubiquitous lines of neon dotting every building seemed to have increased in number, while the streets in this district remained the same. Run down, pot-holed, with garbage and goodness-knows-what else everywhere.

To Bora, it wasn’t that different from the city of Solaris back on Mars, a couple dozen miles from Camp Cydonia. But then the biggest difference between Earth and Martian cities were the behaviour of the denizens.

Where Martians treated strangers in the fringes with bemused apathy, Earthlings treated outsiders with not-so-lowkey hostility, meeting every glance with a glowering expression.

Bora and Yoobin’s Five Sevens in their hands were the only thing keeping the more thuggish Itaewon denizens from attempting anything funny on the two Special Forces operators. Both their handguns had minimal modifications. Threaded barrels for suppressors, and extended magazines, so that the two operators would have 24 shots each, instead of the standard 20.

“Hard to believe these things have been around for more than a century.” Yoobin notes, as she takes apart her Five Seven, giving each part a good wipe down before putting the entire assembly back together.

“A fine example of ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’.” Bora racks back the slide on hers, just far back enough to check that there is a round in the handgun’s chamber before reaching into her pocket, screwing on a suppressor. If they were to expect trouble, Bora wanted to attract as minimal attention as possible.

“You got the photo?” Yoobin asks out of the blue. Bora nods, handing over the passport-size photo of Viian over to Yoobin, who almost casually walks up to some of the friendlier-looking people who dotted the sidewalks. It doesn’t surprise either of them that even in the midnight hour, there would still be crowds under the haze of red and purple lights.

As Bora stands guard, she catches a whiff of something on the breeze. That familiar smell of some kind of meat being thrown on a grill somewhere nearby. Her stomach sends a gentle reminder that the last actual meal Bora had was back on the MASF starship, hours before the drop.

“Any luck?” Bora enquires upon Yoobin’s return.

“Nope unfortunately. No one’s willing to talk it seems.” Yoobin shakes her head, passing the photo back to Bora.

“There’s always someone who’ll talk. But before we continue, let’s get a bite or something.”

“I’m with you on that.”

-

Haseul almost slumps through the doors of her apartment, storming straight into the kitchen, scrabbling through drawers and cupboards that had been hastily thrown open. Haseul could have sworn she had ripped something off its hinges but she could deal with that later. Right now, the damn pills took priority over the half-trashed state of her kitchen.

The storm of thoughts that plagued Haseul whenever she went off her meds got more and more intrusive by the hour.

Dread. Somehow it always started with that increasing sense of dread. Brushing that aside was easy enough during the Itaewon excursion. It was that other feeling, that vise-like gripping feeling in her chest, over her heart that was a lot harder to brush aside. Somehow Jungeun had noticed it during their little meeting, cutting the conversation short.

And then there was the inevitable storm of all forms of intrusive thoughts, most of them involving her prior assignment, and the resulting toll it took on her.

Jiwoo too had noticed during the ride back to central Seoul. Haseul not-so-subtly clutching at her chest.

_“Hey, ‘Sseul? Hey… Speak to me. What’s wrong?”_

_“Get me back to my place. Please. Like right fucking now please.”_

_“I’ll take you to a hospi-“_

_“No! My place. Now… I need my meds.”_

Haseul insisted despite Jiwoo’s protests, Haseul’s own words growing breathier and raspier by the second as her chest feels like it’s imploding.

Jiwoo then insisted on accompanying Haseul up to her apartment

 _Where is it…where the fu- Ah fucking finally!_ The relief at finding her pills is short-lived as a sense of giddiness hits the blade runner with full force.

Alaxetine, which would clear the storm brewing in Haseul’s head, along with propranolol, to slow her pounding heart.

Two of the former and one of the latter. Not the other way around or it’d be a 12 hour-long sleep for her.

Without a second thought, Haseul quickly downs the meds with a chaser shot of water. The blade runner slumps against her fridge as fatigue takes over and the world slowly fades to black.

Haseul awakens an hour later, and it’s the sound of her phone ringing incessantly that wakes her from her little catnap against the fridge. Haseul gazes at the mess she caused, deciding that she’d deal with it when she was in the mood to.

 _I’m really unfit to be back on duty. Psychologically and physically._ Haseul sighs, picking up her phone after the tenth ring. 

Jiwoo’s bubbly voice is what Haseul hears on the other side of the line. Haseul half expect herself to feel some sort of irritation, but instead what she feels is relief.

“Hey I’m just checking in. I wanted to call in an ambulance…”

Haseul inhales, gathering the strength to speak, as the meds have left her pretty doped out.

“I’m doing somewhat better now. Don’t worry about me, the docs that gave me the meds say that it’s all psychosomatic when it happens.”

“Psychoso-what?”

“I-it’s all in my head, but my mind makes it real, to put it bluntly.”

“That bad?”

“Yeah… See, the idiots in charge already know. They’d have seen it from my psych test results… But like you said. What the brass wants, the brass gets so if they want me back, there is no choice.”

Silence, before Haseul continues.

“Anyways enough about me. What are you still doing up?”

“Going through the Owl’s disc before I go to bed. You?”

“Ji, it’s three AM. You should sleep. Send me a copy of the disc’s contents. I won’t be able to sleep later cause of my little catnap.”

Jiwoo’s response is quick, as within the span of 20 seconds, a notification pops up on Haseul’s laptop screen, indicating an incoming email. Haseul then gets to work, setting the phone aside after Jiwoo goes dark before opening up the file.

A flood of information fills the screen a millisecond later.

Locations, where the two other replicants, Chaewon and Choi San were last seen. People they interacted with which happened to be members of various replicant resistance groups and some extremely detailed observations and notes on them. Haseul doesn’t really care for the others, focusing more on San and Chaewon themselves.

And then a file on Viian. Most of its contents are what Haseul herself had on hand prior, but what catches her eye is several mentions of a group, referred to by two very vague names; The Twelve, and Dozen Incorporated.

It doesn’t take Haseul long to put two and two together. The Twelve were definitely the intended recipients of Laplace’s Box. But for what reason, Haseul doesn’t wish to know, deciding it would be better left for the spooks at Public Security Section 31 to figure out. She had a job to do and that was to retire these three replicants. Anything more would be the brass or the spooks’s problem from then on.

-

Yoobin turns towards the opposite side of the strip, towards the source of the shouts and running footsteps. A hooded person, being pursued by two figures in longcoats.

“Blade runners. Like some of our 501st comrades.” Bora observes coolly, raising a hand to stop Yoobin from reaching for her Five Seven.

“Don’t, Sarge. We can’t get involved in this.”

Yoobin stays her hand, watching with a sense of powerlessness as the two figures reach into their longcoats for their weapons, two submachine guns, and then quickly cutting down the hooded person with long bursts from their weapons.

Yoobin was no stranger to that kind of casual brutality, as she herself had done the same in the few combat missions she was assigned to on the war on Faery. It still surprised her nonetheless. Was this the kind of thing Bora was always running from, before she fled to Mars?

“This was what I had to deal with for a long, long time.” Bora finally speaks up, confirming Yoobin’s thoughts. Both of them find it hilariously ironic that Bora spent half her life running from the authority, only to become a soldier after fleeing Earth, thus technically joining the authority. A fact which Bora often hung the metaphorical lampshade on whenever someone brought it up.

"Let it be, Sarge. It's not our fight now."

Yoobin then relaxes, leaving her weapon in its holster as she watches the two longcoated figures, one turning around to mutter something into a walkie talkie, the words too soft for Bora to hear, before disappearing into the darkness with its partner.

Such is life on Earth for rogue replicants. Bora was one of the lucky few to have escaped the clutches of Earth’s blade runners.

-

Bora and Yoobin find themselves accosted by a group of thugs, after Bora bumps into one of them, presumably their leader.

“Hey, hey, hey. We don’t want no trouble. Just let us through and we’ll never have seen you.”

Bora raises both hands, while Yoobin’s free hand reaches for her handgun in its holster.

“You two aren’t from around here, now are you?”

Both Bora and Yoobin freeze. Of course. In places like this, an outsider could be easily smelled out, no matter how much effort they put into blending in. Both their hands slowly reach for their weapons as the thugs check them out from top to bottom.

“No one can’t just simply waltz into our turf and expect to pass through for free. Especially outsiders. Give up your wallets, your weapons. Then put those hands where we can see them.”

The thug leader’s demand is met with silence. Irritated at the show of defiance, he whips out a sawed off shotgun from inside of his jacket.

Instead of being intimidated or scared, both Bora and Yoobin draw their guns, suppressors attached, being much faster on the draw as Bora shoots first, plugging the leader with two quick shots to the centre of his chest with the shots sounding like the muffled popping of an airsoft gun.

The rest of the group reaches for their weapons, only to be quickly cut down by the two replicants, with the survivors quickly and smartly deciding to cut their losses and run away.

“This is why you don’t fuck with the 501st.”

“True that.” Bora checks her Five Seven, ensuring a round is in the chamber before flicking the safety back on and sliding the pistol back into its holster with the suppressor attached.

“Alright, let’s get back on track. We can’t waste any more time.”

“Affirmative. Let’s go.”

Not wanting to draw any more attention to themselves, both Bora and Yoobin slip back into the shadows out of sight as red and blue lights appear in the distance.


End file.
